


The Span of a Life

by SoundandColor



Category: The Magic of Ordinary Days
Genre: F/M, First Time, Old timey hotness, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-31
Updated: 2011-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:32:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundandColor/pseuds/SoundandColor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If his archeologist wants an adventure, he’ll give her one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Span of a Life

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just write smut for a Hallmark Hall of Fame made for TV movie?! I think I did. I'm so proud of myself :) I'm totally going to do Mary and Tim next. This was made as a response to the prompt: _Wild Card_ (I chose _first time_ )for my [](http://community.livejournal.com/angst_bingo/profile)[**angst_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/angst_bingo/) [card](http://ladyofspring.livejournal.com/44123.html). Anyway, I hope you all read, enjoy and reply!

The Beet Box shuttles them along the road to his sister’s house as quickly as he dares to push it. They’d left the baby there for the afternoon—the first time both of them had been away from Danny since his birth—and Ray is anxious to get back.

Livy sighs and rests her head against his shoulder, stealing his focus for the moment. She wearing the pretty yellow dress she found in their basement and her bare feet are propped in the open window. He raises his arm, fingers skimming against the damp skin at her nape, before wrapping it around her shoulders.

Not so long ago, she’d stayed as far away from him as the bench seat would allow: back ramrod straight, hair in a tight bun, wringing hands in her lap. Livy puts her palm on his knee and points out something in the field to their left with a grin as Ray glances down at her.

What a difference a new year makes.

“—excited, right?”

He nods even though he hadn’t really been paying attention to what she was saying. Ray just likes to hear her speak so freely. She narrows her eyes and twists toward him. “You weren’t listening at all were you?”

“Of course I was,” he replies, voice just this side of indignant but the corner of his mouth ticks upward.

“Then what did I say?”

“You were talking ‘bout the crops coming back,” he guesses and peeks at her face.

After a moment, she sighs and says, “lucky guess,” and Ray can’t control his burst of laughter. He can see Livy watching him placidly from the corner of his eye as she pulls her feet into the car and folds them beneath her. She runs her hand through his short-cropped hair.

“You don’t laugh enough,” she mutters so lowly he can barely hear her over the coughing and wheezing of the Beet Box. “I like seeing you happy.”

Livy moves closer and the smile falls from his face as she shuffles across the seat and she’s so close now, he can feel her heart beat—steady and strong—against his arm. They’ve been this close before, but it’s different now. There’s something between them—an electricity, a resolve—that’s never been there before.

“Being with you makes me feel that way, Livy,” Ray says back. Nervous and excited about whatever it is that’s happening between them.

She seems happy to hear it. Livy runs a thumb, absently, along the curve of his jaw. Hesitates for an instance before she leans in to follow that same path with her lips. He grips the wheel tightly, can hear his own rough breathing and Ray forces himself to relax as Livy drapes herself across his lap. She kisses the pulse point behind his ear, the corner of his mouth; she licks his bottom lip and slips her tongue inside when he groans lowly.

He’s kissed her—he’s kissed her a lot— in the months since the birth of Daniel, but they were all chaste, closed mouth, affairs. Nothing as slow or as wet or as needful as this. Livy drags her tongue against his and Ray lets one hand drift from the wheel to circle her waist as he mimics her movements.

“Eyes on the road,” she mutters breathlessly with a smile in her voice and he remembers those first few days of their marriage when he’d taught her to drive. When he’d watched his every word, frightened he’d scare her away if he said the wrong thing. He doesn’t worry about that much anymore.

“I can’t exactly focus when you’re doing that, Livy,” he complains good naturedly as she moves forward and tugs his earlobe between sharp teeth. Ray clears his throat. “You’re going to make us crash.”

“Pull over then.”

“What?”

She backs away, looks him in the eyes and blushes as she swallows and shoves her thick curtain of hair behind her shoulders. “Pull over.”

“The baby—“

“Is with your sister, Ray. Now get off the street.”

He considers the unthinkable—turning her down—for a moment. This isn’t the time or the place he imagined something finally happening between them and Ray refuses to let their first time be in a truck on the side of a road. He glances at her for a moment and her face is vulnerable, soft and drawn with nervousness. No, Ray decides, he won’t take her here; but he won’t tell her no either. Just because they can’t go _all the way_ doesn’t mean they can’t do _something_. He turns the wheel sharply and pulls into one of the barren fields on the driver’s side of the truck. He makes sure to go a little ways away from the road. Usually, no one travels back here who isn’t a part of his or Martha’s brood, but there have been a few field hands beginning to trickle into town and he wants to be cautious.

If his archeologist wants an adventure, he’ll give her one.

The truck kicks up dust as he goes deeper into the field and comes to a slow stop. He rolls down his window and lets the truck idle as they both stare out the windshield quietly. His hands are twitching nervously and he can feel the same emotion coming off her in waves. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. Ray takes a deep breath, begins to say as much when she gets to her knees on the seat next to him.Livy gives a gentle smile as she starts to free the tiny, mother of pearl buttons that start at her neck and end at her waist.

She’s shaking as she pulls the front of her dress open, exposing the slip beneath. The top settles around her waist, stopped by the belt she has yet to take off, and Ray watches with soft eyes—unable to move—as she pulls one of the straps down.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen her in a similar state of undress, but those instances were due more to the fact that they lived together in a house with a baby and one bathroom than their being husband and wife.

She starts to pull the other strap down with a jerky movement when he places his palm against her shoulder blade, effectively stopping her. “Okay, Livy,” he says quietly. She’s breathing hard—like they’ve been working the fields all morning—and he pats her hands again, trying to be reassuring. “It’s okay.”

She nods and he turns to watch his hand move along her collarbone. Everything in him wants to study the flesh she’s revealed but he forces himself to remain steadfast, to wait for her to stop trying to prove something and truly show herself to him. It happens slowly: her shoulders relax and curve forward, he looks up to find her lips slightly parted and her eyes hooded.

“Livy?”

She presses against him at the sound of her name and Ray lets his eyes fall to her bare breast for the first time. He stares at the pink tip until it starts to harden from his gaze alone. He brings his hand down, reminds himself to be gentle—she’s still nursing and he knows how sore they can get—as he thumbs her nipple.

Livy lets out a gasp and puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to steady herself.

“ _Ray_.”

She says his name in the way he’s woken up from sweaty dreams imagining: shameless, wanton, as if she needs something only he can provide. He moans low in the back of his throat, leans forward and licks her nipple before taking it gently between his teeth and Livy hisses at the contact. He almost lets her go, almost apologizes but she’s arching her back and cupping the nape of his neck, pulling him as close as they can get.

He lets his hands fall to her hips and though Ray’s never done this before, he’s too old to be naive. He remembers the whispers in high school over contraband girly magazines, the talk his father gave him when he turned 15, hell, Hank and every other man at the beet factory had taken it upon himself to give Ray advice after finding out about his impromptu marriage. His hands follow the curve of her behind, to the back of her thighs. He knows what comes next.

She pulls his head away from her breast and he finds himself transfixed by the wetness his mouth leaves behind before she bends her head down and kisses him again. Grabs the front of his shirt and starts to pull him down on top of her.

She licks his mouth open, works her hand between their bodies and starts to unbutton his pants

“Livy,” he says quickly, surprised by how fast she’s moving. “I want—“ he starts to say, but then she’s pulling his jeans and underwear down over his backside and her hand is wrapped around him and everything inside of Ray vibrates as he drops his head against her sternum. He can’t speak. Her palm is dry and Livy’s first few pulls against him are rough but he doesn’t move to stop her. Even this coarse touch is better than anything—then _everything_ —he’s experienced before. She tugs against him a few more times before she frowns and stops suddenly.

Ray raises his head and watches her hand disappears beneath her dress and when she wraps it back around him, her touch is slick and its glide is easy. He’s confused for a moment, then he understands where the moisture must have come from—the only place it could’ve come from— and his hips thrust into her grasp hard enough to shake the cab. It’s _her_ all over him he realizes, _her_ wetness, _her_ hands, _her_ smell. _I want to take you home_ , he thinks suddenly. No longer interested in any sort of propriety. _I want to spread you out in our bed. I want to do this right._

Then her hand is moving faster and a familiar feeling is starting to build in the pit of his stomach. He relaxes against her, not caring that it restricts her movement or that—even with the windows open—his shirt is sticking to his back and the air around them is thick and muggy.

Livy pulls him again, squeezes the head and he’s so undone by the feel of it, he doesn’t notice she’s pulling her dress up until he feels skin against his thighs. He tries to pull back but she’s got a hold on his shirt and she isn’t letting go. “I don’t—“ he finally gets out before her grip steals his thoughts. He swallows thickly and pumps his hips into her hand. “Livy, we can’t—“ and he wants to mean it, he really does, but if she were to pull him closer, if she were to wrap her thighs around him and say _keep going_ , he doesn’t think he could stop her. He doesn’t think he would want to.

“Shh,” she whispers damply into his ear, taking the responsibility out of his hands as she tugs him firmly. “I won’t. I won’t…”

Ray feels like he can breathe at her words. Relaxes instantly and comes, hips jerking under her ministrations, face shoved into the side of her neck. He can’t catch his breath, he feels lightheaded and dizzy and so in love with the woman lying under him that it takes everything he has in him not to say something stupid. Something like _I’ll do anything you want_ , _don’t ever leave me_ , _I’ll die without you_.

He lies against her afterward, reaches under the seat blindly and wipes himself off her right hand and thigh before throwing it back down onto the floor. He brings his hand back up and places it onto her thigh and isn’t quite sure how to proceed. He wants to be gentle, to be a good man and an even better husband and he decides the best way to go about that is to not assume anything.

Ray backs away and struggles back into his pants, ignoring her questioning gaze, before kissing the side of her neck and placing his hand against her tentatively. He decides he won’t move until she gives him the go ahead—with a noise or a look or a shudder—and she responds better than he could’ve hoped at his touch.

“ _Oh_ ,” she says lowly, bending one of her legs up at the knee to give him more room to move and he can feel her; even through her dress and under things. Ray can sense the sodden tease of her beneath his fingers and he wants it so badly he can’t look her in the eye for fear that she’ll see the depth of his desire.

He begins to move his fingers against her experimentally. Trying to divine the ways she likes to be touched and the areas he should avoid. After one particular movement, she rocks her hips upward with a gasp, grabs his hand and puts it underneath her dress.

Even with all they’ve already done, Ray wants to make sure she’s all right with where they’re headed. “Are you sure? “

“Yes,” she says, and shoves it further up, until he’s touching the soft skin of her inner thigh. Almost where he wants to be, but not quite. “Come on.”

His fingers glide upward slowly, testing, before he slips them past the elastic band to meet the warm, damp skin beneath. He combs through the wiry curls there until he finds where she’s wettest and works a finger inside of her, slicks his thumb and finds the nub above her entrance. The one that Hank—over a rare beer on an even rarer night off— warned him to look out for.Her mouth falls open, her feet crawl up and meet at the small of his back and Ray guesses he hit the right spot. He circles it before nudging another finger inside and Livy gasps.

Ray slips his forearm under her neck and stares down into her face as he scissors two digits inside of her, making room for a third. Livy’s eyes screw themselves shut at the feeling and her mouth turns down into a scowl.

“Is this—,“ he starts, alarmed at her reaction. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” she says quickly, takes a breath and spreads her legs as wide as the tight space they’re in will allow. “It feels good. Don’t stop” Ray doesn’t.

He thumbs the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and leans forward, kisses the side of her neck again, the tip of her nose, her right eyelid before he slants his mouth over hers. She moans, pushes her hips against his hand and grabs his shirt into tight fists.

He works another finger inside of her, twists them, rubs the raised flesh at the apex of her thighs harder and she comes against his hand. He listens to her keening breath in his ear as she goes tighter around his digits and slicks them with even more wetness. By the end of it, Ray’s breathing as hard as she is.

He pulls his fingers free after a moment, pets her gently before he grips her hips and lies flat so that they’re chest to chest. Ray rests her forehead against her shoulder, listens to the staccato beat of her heart and begins to let his eyes flutter closed when a rapidly honking horn forces his eyes open.

Livy starts to push at his chest, and Ray moves to the side as she hurriedly pulls her dress back on. He sits up and scans the land around them to see a cherry red pickup hurtling down the street. Ray narrows his eyes and though he can’t make out the driver, there’s a blond boy hanging out of the passenger side window that he recognizes from town. The kids hooting and hollering at him and Livy as his friend honks and they fly down the road.

When he turns back, Livy sees his face and starts to laugh, a surprisingly low husky sound that makes Ray’s breath catch. He can feel the smile on his face widen—a feature that’s so new Ray has the urge to bring his hand up and make sure it’s really there—and he can imagine that it makes him look like a mad man but he can’t force it back into its usually impassive flatness.He raises his eyebrow at her and puts the truck into drive. Ray knows Martha and Hank will be able to read what’s happened on their faces but when Livy slips back under his arm—lose limbed with an easy grin—he doesn’t care.

 


End file.
